Page 52 of Odin
I tuck my hands under her ass, tilting her hips as I thrust inside of her. She grasps my wrists, one hand closing around each, holding me as my hands splay around her ass and hips to brace her.
This table seems solid, but I’m taking zero chances.
I enter her slowly, carefully, drawing the moment out and edging us both. It’s not going to take much to send me over, and I take the time to center myself.
“That’s right,” she hisses, hips curling up and up and into my hands. “Make me take your cock.”
Well, shit.So much for my control.
My attention is drawn straight where I was trying not to let it travel, down to where I’m entering her. I watch myself sink into her until I’m filling her full. She takes me perfectly, like we were made for each other. I tear my gaze back up to her face. She has her eyes closed, thick lashes resting heavy on her cheeks, hair mussed, swollen lips, and pink cheeks. She’s a vision. An angel that I’m ravishing, fucking my massive cock into, and she takes it all. Her walls ripple around me,
It takes me from zero to sixty in two seconds. I release her hips with one hand, but only so I can grasp the edge of the table to keep it from scraping back on the floor with every hard thrust. And they are hard. Each one more punishing than the last. Willow jerks with every move of my hips, rolling hers and grinding against me, coming back for more.
I set such a hard rhythm that I’m sweat slicked in a few seconds. I’m wearing far too many clothes and it’s warm in here. My t-shirt gets sticky and damp and beads of sweat roll down my temples. My heart hammers far faster than the rest of me. Willow’s pulse beats rapidly at her neck to match.
I take a chance and let go of the table so that I can roll my fingers over her clit. I tease the area where we’re joined, spreading her apart so I can watch her take my cock. She moans, as filthy as I am, and I love that about her. She doesn’t object to being fucked hard on a kitchen table. She’s not embarrassed about how wet she is, that we have the lights on, that the first time we did this we were outdoors and it was the middle of the day. She’s not squeamish about the sounds of us fucking, our skin slapping together. I think it’s hot as fuck, and judging by her soft moans, she’s enjoying herself as well.
Her intelligence and her confidence are the sexiest parts about her.
That, and the way she says my name at the height of pleasure, right before she’s lost to her climax. I want to hear that sound echoing through the kitchen, my name unspooling from her tongue as I drive her out of her mind.
She gives me what I want like I spoke out loud and asked her for it, though it would have never been a command. I’m not into barking orders, demanding that people do thingswith their own body on my timeline. If people are into that, it’s fine, but it’s always seemed a little bit arrogant to me. Maybe I’m just too old to be a bossy fucker.
When Willow comes, she screams, but as it tapers off, she chants my name. “Odin. Odin, oh my god.”
She clenches around my cock, and it’s a struggle to last more than a few seconds. I come on the heels of her climax, letting out a shout that half the block can probably hear, never mind just downstairs.
I have to grip the table to keep myself standing upright as I spill myself into Willow’s tight heat. A spectrum of colors bursts in my brain when I have my eye closed. The waves keep coming, pouring over me in hot flashes that leave me panting and drained.
I arch over her, swipe a hand up to my forehead to brush away the droplets of sweat, and try to catch my breath.
Her eyes pop open. I must be doing something that gives her pause, because she pulls away from me, curling upwards on the table. She grasps my elbows and pulls me against her. She guides my face down to rest my sticky forehead against hers.
“Do you need ice cream again?” she asks. She drops a hand to my shoulder and smooths it in little circles. “Oh god, I don’t think I have any. Will yogurt work?”
“I don’t… need… ice cream,” I pant out in broken words.
Am I spiraling? Maybe a little. I know it’s not just the physical exertion that has my lungs stopped up. At least, not just the workout itself. It’s the inevitable aftermath.
There’s no denying it. If I could have one person in the world, it would be her. I wish I could be all in on this. I want it more than anything in the world. If I had to give up riding my bike for the rest of my life, I could do it. I could give up any physical possession I have, give all my money away, work any job demanded of me, if that was the price to pay for having her in my life like this. if the cost was greater, I’d find a way to pay. I’m already down an eye, but I’d give up the other if it meant keeping her.
She hurries from the kitchen, so distracted by trying to take care of me that she doesn’t read the expression I know has to be twisting up my face. One of pure longing and the heavy desire that weighs down my heart with a truth I’ve been fighting with ever since I met her. It’s simple really. I want her at my side. I want to care for her. Fall in love with her. Be the one to protect her, to pleasure her, to make her laugh, to hold her through the good and the bad. I want to do life with her, and not in any platonic sense.
But, if that’s all she wanted, ifthat’sthe great cost I have to pay, then I’ll do it gladly, stop up my wounds, quiet my beating heart, and still fight for her as her weapon, and protect her as her shield.
She’s only gone for a minute, and I try to get myself under control. I should be the one taking care of her, not the one standing here, huffing and puffing like I have rusty billows for lungs. I don’t.
At the sight of her walking back into the room, hips swaying gently in that dress, a darker mark on the front right at the apex of her thighs, I let out an audible groan that I can’t smother.
Her eyes go wide with worry and she pulls out a chair, ushering me into like I’m having a heart attack and just need to sit the fuck down for a moment.
“I’m okay, really, I am. I guess I’m still not fully recovered from the crash,” I mutter, feeling mortified. I just hope this isn’t the point where she decides she wants a young fit guy.
She angles a chair directly across from me and drops into it, then rests her forearms parallel with her legs and clutches her hands in front of her. Her wild hair falls into her flushed face. She deserves so much more than this. I know she said she doesn’t want the world, but I still want to gather it up and drop it at her feet. I’m feeling every single ounce of my inadequacies right now.
Whatever it is that passes between us, that strange connection and buzzing electricity, once again, she knows what I’m thinking. “I know that last time we did this, we basically had an understanding that we’d have that time and that was it.” She holds up two fingers. “I have two points that I want to make about that.” She smiles, laughing softly. “If you want to hear them.”
I raise my head and find the oxygen I need. “I want to hear your thoughts.”
